


A Lesser Man

by thirdtimecharmed



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cuddling and Snuggling, Hangover, M/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-20
Updated: 2011-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-21 13:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirdtimecharmed/pseuds/thirdtimecharmed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They wake up cuddling, but what happened last night?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lesser Man

            They were curled into each other’s arms in a very compromising position. A head on a shoulder, arms flung around torsos haphazardly, and legs twisted together in a manner which brought the phrase ‘tangle buddies’ to mind.

            Dave woke up first. He rubbed his eyes groggily, taking a moment to assess the night’s carnage. John was drooling on his shoulder, sleeping peacefully, and if he wasn’t desperately avoiding waking him, he would have laughed. The kid’s hair looked like he had stuck a fork in a light socket. His glasses were knocked askew, too, the perfect picture of sleeping vulnerability curled into Dave’s arms.

                    Slowly, he tried to extricate himself from the viselike grip his friend had on him. One arm was already freed, but the legs were another story. Moving as if he was handling a bomb, he froze as John stirred.

            Any lesser man would’ve felt a flush spread over his cheeks as John immediately frowned and shifted closer, sighing contentedly as he buried his face back into his chest. Dave didn’t feel it, too unused to his own reactions. Instead, he was focused on his best friend’s sudden transformation into a clingy bitch. Still, as much as he hated to ever acknowledge it, it was…

                    Inadvertently, the hand pinned beneath John’s head softly caressed his hair.

            John’s eyes slowly opened, and for a fleeting second a feeling of bizarre guilt washed over Dave. John, however, was clearly not suffering. He smiled up at Dave, not moving away.

                    “Gmorning,” he mumbled, voice creaking from morning disuse.

                    “Morning,” was the only reply Dave could manage in his current mixture of relief and confusion unique to bleary eyed, hungover moments.

            “Want something to eat?” John offered, slowly awakening and pushing himself out of Dave’s embrace. As Dave backed away with sudden alacrity, the full force of the moment hit John. Mouth still hanging half open, an offer of pancakes dying on his lips, he looked first at Dave’s unrevealing expression, than at his own hands pressed on the other man’s chest and finally, blushing, to their intertwined legs.

                    Watching the transparent worry cross his face, Dave couldn’t help laughing- at least, chuckling softly. John was not as amused.

            “W-what… when?” he asked.

            “Don’t you remember?” he countered with another question.

            “No! Last thing I remember is-“ John paused, then looked more alarmed, “I don’t remember anything!” he cried.

            “You were pretty tossed bro, like a salad at a fancy restaurant, never knew you could sing so well.”

            John blanched at this. “I was singing? Why?”

            “Guess you caught karaoke fever, really you should be lying down right now. That shits dangerous when left untreated. Just sit back, I’ll make chicken soup and do other maternal bullshit, doctor’s orders.”

                    “Dave!” the inevitable protest came, “this is not the time!”

            “What better time to rib you about your sudden need to express yourself? Gotta say, that grey dipshit was more amused than I was. Looked like troll Christmas came early.”

            “Oh my god,” he groaned, “everyone saw that, I can’t believe this!”

            His voice shot up as his head sank back down into the pillows, an expression of exquisite anguish painted on his face.

            “Jesus dude,” Dave surveyed his fallen friend. “Relax. It’s not like you hopped up on the bar, pulled down your shorts and gave everyone a good look at your pork sword.”

            John’s eyes widened; the possibility hadn’t yet occurred to him.

            “What if I did though?” he groaned, looking frantically up at Dave, who rolled his eyes.

            “Trust me man, I would have remembered that one.”

            Before he remembered the severity of the moment, John chuckled to himself, then sobered.

                    “You’re positive I didn’t?” he asked haltingly.

            “Yes dammit dude I remember most of last night, just not the part that ended up with us cuddling like puppies or some insipid equivalent.”

            Both men were silent afterward, locked in a standoff neither really understood. Only the shrill ringing of the phone broke the mysteriously tense silence. John’s wince also caught Dave’s attention. The kid was eyeing the phone as if it had walked into his house, taken a dump on his floor, insulted his mother and then asked for refreshments.

                    “You’re hung over,” Dave announced, picking the phone and rapidly answering and ending the call. He got off the bed, holding up a finger to preemptively halt any and all protestations from the bedridden derp before him.

                    Though he promised himself he’d be back in three seconds tops, he clattered around the unfamiliar kitchen. He finally emerged with two painkillers and a glass of water.

            “I gave up on the coffee,” he confessed,  offering the spoils of his endeavor to John, “Your coffee maker is the devil incarnate bro and I am not kidding. I’m pretty sure the little fucker actually bit me.”

            “Aren’t you hungover too?” John asked, taking the pills but looking unsure.

            “Nope,” Dave failed to avoid looking smug, “Striders don’t have to deal with that shit.”

            “You suck,” he sighed, knocking the pills back with a swig of water, just as the phone rang insistently once more.

            “Goddamn it,” Dave sighed, “What does this idiot want? Egderp residence, coolkid speaking,” he answered the phone, ignoring the dirty look John shot him and wandering into the other room.

            A lesser man would have given in to the throbbing hangover he had and stayed in bed. John Egbert crawled out of bed and hid behind the door frame, using the sneakiness years of pranks had given him and Dave’s own distraction to hide from his typically alert friend. Dave slumped upside-down onto his friend’s sofa, feet on the wall and head on the floor.

            “Dave?” came the cool female voice over the phone, “When you said you’d take John home last night, I didn’t think you’d stay.”

            “Neither did I Lalonde, trust me.” he said, “wait, you were sober last night. What the hell happened?”

            “Nothing, aside from your usual drunken tomfoolery. You may be getting phone calls from the manager about sexually harassing the waitress, however.”

            “I was definitely kidding,” he protested.

            “The case remains, Dave, that if you get us all banned from another club because you can’t keep your comments about who’s ‘juicy’ to yourself, I am going to be miffed.”

            “Whatever, what happened?”

            “I have already told you; nothing unusual. Unless of course, you meant between you and John.”

            He could almost hear the meddling edge in her voice, and rolled his eyes.

            “Yeah, not gonna lie I’ve got no clue what went down.”

            “Dave, all I know is he passed out drunk around eleven, and you said you would drive him home. I called to make sure he got there. I can honestly say I did not expect to hear your melodious tones.”

            “Can it Lalonde,” he said, no time for pretentious mind games. “I woke up in a goddamn cuddle puddle with Egbert, who’s waiting in the next room for some epiphany to fall out of the sky into his lap.”

            Rose’s tinny laughter came through the phone loud and clear.

            “So neither of you remember past that? You don’t remember if-”

            “We dueled with flesh sabres at ten paces? Nope.”

            She chuckled again.

            “Well, best of luck with that, but Dave, if you were too drunk to remember anything, you were far too intoxicated to drive.”

            There was a click, and the line went dead.

            “Bitch hung up on me,” he said to no one in particular, steeling himself for the inevitable detective work that was incoming. Sadly, no suitably ridiculous magnifying glasses were around to make the experience marginally less horrible.

            “Who was that?” was John’s first, very irritated demand.

            “The president,” he replied, “special mission for you man but I can’t share any of it. Details are confidential, I’d have to cut out your tongue if I shared.”

            “Dave.” It was part whine, part warning.

            “Don’t get your panties in a twist, man, it was just Lalonde,” he said casually, “She called to make sure I didn’t kill you in a drunk driving crash, or drag you home and have my way with you.”

            Johns indignance at ‘panties’ broke at the insinuation of the potential truth they’d both been trying to avoid.

            “You didn’t... right?”

            “I’m pretty sure. Again, on the list of things I’d remember no matter what was wrong with me, stuffing the hot dog with my best friend is only under intentional dick removal.”

            “So we didn’t?” he tried to reaffirm. Dave glanced at him, his mouth quirked in a half smile.

            “Damn man would it really be that bad?” he asked.

            John opened his mouth and Dave expected some attempt at equal flippancy. Instead, he closed his mouth again, frowning slightly.

            He wasn’t one to be caught off guard, so he defaulted to the only outlet he ever had.

            “You know bro, I’ve been told I’m not too shabby. Nine out of ten annoying sorority chicks, exempting the one that was pissed when I didn’t remember her name would agree.”

            “Dave...” this one was definitely a pout.

            “Fine,” he rolled his eyes, “what were you too chickenshit to say?”

            Even though he glared, John answered, biting his lip even more so than usual.

            “If we had done... uh... that, well I’d at least want to remember it,” he confessed.

            “Really dude? I woulda thought you’d be desperate to forget it even possibly happened, considering your flaming heterosexuality and all.”

            Only the barest hint of sarcasm seeped into his tone as he glanced over at John, who was curled around himself, a characteristic blush spreading over his cheek.

            “Well if you’re as good as you say you are, sounds like it’d be something I wouldn’t be able to forget,” he grinned, looking up at Dave teasingly. He laughed in surprise.

            “You smug little fuck,” he grinned, “you better believe you wouldn’t forget a night with Strider Jr.”

            “Strider Jr.?”

            “Well i was considering excalibur but there are enough shitty swords floating around the apartment, another one would be overkill.”

            “You... named it?”

            “Duh, get with the program, who hasn’t?”

            John gave him the familiar ‘you are a special breed of nutcase’ look.

            “I haven’t,” he said firmly, “and I don’t intend to.”

            “We’ll have to work on that then,” Dave chuckled, settling himself on the edge of the bed, “now what was that about pancakes?”

            “But I’m hungover,” he whined, pouting unashamedly.

            “And I’m hungry. We’ve all got problems dude but mine can be solved. By pancakes.”

            “Make them yourself,” John grouched, turning away from Dave’s side of the bed.

            “I’d set your apartment on fire man you know that,” he insisted, flumping backwards to stare at the back of John’s head, “come on, don’t make me force you.”

            “How do you plan on doing that, then?” he asked, suspiciously.

            “Keep denying me breakfast and you’ll find out,” Dave threatened.

            “Yeah because of course I’m so ter-”

            He cut off with a yelp, dissolving into giggles as Dave attacked.

            It was a quick merciless takeover: Dave knew his victim well. The scuffle ended in a position they didn’t realize was awkward until the first surge of victory had left. They were almost nose to nose, John sprawled under Dave, who had him pinned to the bed. Both were breathing heavily.

            Dave laughed. “So, pancakes?” he said, his voice low and smug.

            “Y-yeah fine,” John stammered, trying to ignore the inexplicable blush that he felt crawling across his face. Dave watched its progress, fascinated, from under his shades. There was a lengthy pause.

            “Well get on with it man, unless you can cook with your mind, but hell if you can do that I’m not touching them. Gypsy magic doesn’t agree with my digestive system.”

            “Uh, Dave?” he interrupted, “You’re going to have to move first?” John faltered then, looking anywhere but up at his friend, his teeth worrying his bottom lip.

            A lesser man would show temporary distraction at that motion, and spent longer than he realized staring at John’s lips. Dave jolted out of his daze.

            “Why do you say that? What happened to the magic dude, wizard pancakes would be the shit.”

            “I can’t really do magic, that’s Rose’s thing, I have to be in the kitchen to cook and I can’t get there because you’re kind of heavy and you’ve got me pinned down right now and if I’m going to be honest this is kind of getting awkward.”

            “Dude I get the logistics of pancakes. Why worry about the cuddling thing anyway? It’s basically how we woke up,” he grinned, “it isn’t bugging me.”

            “Uh, good. I think,” John replied vaguely.

            “Not if you want me to move it isn’t, I’m getting ready to settle in. Like a bear in November, going scavenging for pancakes and curling up in a warm dry Egbert cave for the snowfall.”

            “Dave that’s... kinda creepy,” he half laughed, trying to squirm away. There was no where to go but forward, however.

            A lesser man would’ve- John didn’t know what a lesser man would’ve done, he was too busy trying to free himself from the mess he’d somehow been landed in. Dave’s hands were on opposite sides of his head and their legs... well he didn’t want to think about that right now. All he wanted now was to be somewhere quiet where he could puzzle out why he was blushing so much at something that was probably just a game to-

            “Dave?” he asked, hating the suspicion in his own voice, “is this just another round of gay chicken?”

            A lesser man would have caved. Dave grinned however, and lowered himself onto John’s chest, chin resting on his folded hands in an overblown girly pose.

            “Now what makes you say that dude?” he asked nonchalantly.

            John simply stared at him, his irritated guise unable to hide a nervous swallow as he noticed the proximity of Dave’s lips to his own neck.

            Dave noted the conflict on John’s face with a confusion that was hidden completely by his shades. The cocktail of apprehension and inexplicable excitement only made sense to him in one context, and it was an explanation he refused to believe.

            A lesser man would’ve forgotten he had a question to answer with the realization that a simple shift of a few inches would place his best friend’s lips on his throat. John stammered out his reply, seconds past the time that made it too late to answer.

            “Well, you’re kind of, um, on me. And acting all, forward I guess,” he finished weakly.

            “Hey, this time I could be legit,” Dave pouted, tipping his head flirtatiously to one side.

            “Past experience tells me otherwise,” John glared, unamused by the falsified shenanigans.

            “Yeah well no one’s got a clean record dude we both know I’m a love criminal. I’m only out on parole though,” with a grin, “sorry if I’ve stolen your heart, I promise to return it. If I don’t, I‘ll get sent back to love jail and that’s somewhere you definitely don’t want to drop the soap.”

All John could do was stare. He knew he should fire back with some snappy comeback, or be amused at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Partially, anyway, he was, but mostly he was knocked off guard by the sudden dive back into flippancy.

“I’m too hungover to deal with this,” he grumbled, using the only out he had. 

A lesser man would’ve apologised for forgetting, and taken care of things. He would have

given in to the sudden protective urge he felt. Dave Strider bit back a sigh. The apology, though,  slipped out before he could stop it.

            “Sorry,” he mumbled, soft enough that John had to cock his head to the side to hear, pushing himself ever so slightly back up on his elbows. This motion close the gap between them. Dave, his mind on other things, found his face buried in the hollow of John’s neck.

            There was one moment of peace and stillness while they both warred between basking in the moment and frantically figuring out what the other would do, what they should do, what it all meant.

            For Dave at least, he threw caution to the wind. He would never get this chance again, so he made the most of it. His arms wrapped around John, and he took a deep breath, bracing himself for the explosion he knew was incoming.

            A lesser man would have caved into the desires he had been fighting this whole time. he would have hugged in return and fallen backwards.

            John Egbert sat stock still, frozen with eyes wide open. He might have drawn blood with the force he was using to bite his lip, but he didn’t notice. Instead he entirely focused himself on the one spot that Dave was touching. He stiffened.

            Dave felt the tension begin, and sighed. Against every instinct self preservation had to offer him, he placed a first and final kiss on John’s neck, and moved entirely away, sighing.

            Blue eyes frantically searched for some sign from behind the shades. Seeing nothing, he looked away, blushing.

            “Why didn’t you-” he stammered.

            “Why would I?” he questioned back, “and ruin a perfectly functional friendship?Jesus you’re the only one who ever actually liked me, why would I fuck that up?”

            “Well you should’ve told me anyway!”

            “Like it would change anything,” he almost spat. Dave hung his head, refusing to make anything resembling eye contact. As he sat directly facing John, who sat cross-legged on the bed, he crossed his own arms, making the picture of sullen dejection.

            John, who had moved to rest his hand on Dave’s knee, recoiled his hand again.

            “I’m... I’m sorry.”

            “Don’t be” Dave assured him, his voice forcibly calm “I didn’t think it would. Pointless hope only takes you so far, you know? Its like trying to cross the Pacific in a cardboard box, eventually you run out of duct tape to patch the leaks. I’ll just swim with the fishes, rebound with a mermaid or some shit like that. Dig up clams.”

            “Dave,” John cut him off, “not funny.”

            “Fuck, yeah, I know,” he sighed, “but what am I supposed to say, my heart burns with the heat of a thousand suns or something? That’s not funny that’s just pathetic.”

            Something in his voice brought John out of his retreat.

            “But wait, is it true?” he asked, gazing at Dave intently.

He couldn’t ignore the gaze he felt burning a hole through his head. Dave looked up.

            John’s hand was still aimlessly outstretched, concern etched in every line on his face. His eyes sought John’s, even from behind the shades, and tried to decode the unwittingly vague messages he’d been getting. There was worry there, and a strange fear. Plenty of affection, but that had always been there. Those god damn blue eyes that always looked so happy to see him.

            “Do you like me?” he asked, directly, done with beating around the bush. He faced John straight on, shoulders squared like a soldier going into battle.

            John still faltered and hesitated.

            “Well yeah Dave I like you! You’re my best friend and everything!”

            “Cut the crap Egbert you know what I mean.”

            “Well...” a telltale blush began spreading again and John could no longer comfortably look at him. With any other person, Dave would have trusted these signs and gone for it. Any blushing shy girl, any stammering guy. Not now. He refused to believe it, couldn’t believe it until he heard it from John’s lips.

            A lesser man would have kissed him, rather than sit suddenly ramrod straight and confess. Lesser men escape through physical signs of affection.

            John Egbert stared Dave straight in what he hoped were his eyes and said, with more force than he intended, “I do.” Realizing how bizarrely matrimonial it sounded, he blushed further and his look of conviction turned to a search for a sign of approval. “I do like you, and in the way you want, I think. No, I mean I know I like you, I just hope you want me to. At least, I thought you did?”

            His friend still sat frozen, and John’s incoherent babble slowed and dropped to a faint whisper that died to nothing.

            A lesser man would have taken advantage of his drunken friend the night before.

            Dave strider, as he crushed his lips to John’s in a moment of ecstatic finality, was glad he had known enough to wait. 


End file.
